


your home, my body

by dimthestars



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Magical Realism, Dark Will Graham, Hannibal Lecter Gives The Worst Gifts, Haunted Houses, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-14
Updated: 2021-02-14
Packaged: 2021-03-14 17:28:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29422344
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dimthestars/pseuds/dimthestars
Summary: It's not a haunting, he's sure of that.  It feels more like it's the house itself, like there's something waiting in the heart of the structure, a minotaur in the center of a labyrinth he/s trying to make into a home.The house seems to whisper in the night, talking to him by name, trying to lure him into a world he doesn't even know exists yet.
Relationships: Will Graham/Hannibal Lecter
Comments: 4
Kudos: 18
Collections: Chocolate Box - Round 6





	your home, my body

**Author's Note:**

  * For [theatricalities](https://archiveofourown.org/users/theatricalities/gifts).



There is something that lives within the walls, between the floorboards, of Will's new house. It's not a haunting, he's sure of that. It feels more like it's the house itself, like there's something waiting in the heart of the structure, a minotaur in the center of a labyrinth he/s trying to make into a home.

The house seems to whisper in the night, talking to him by name, trying to lure him into a world he doesn't even know exists yet.

He tries to tell himself it's nothing, that exhaustion is playing games with him. Houses don't talk, they don't call out to him and whisper about the darkness that sits in his own center.

No matter what he tells himself though, he still hears it again and again, no matter how strong his denial. Will, the melodic voice calls. Will, it's time to wake up.

It's hard to pretend he doesn't know what the house is talking about but he is fully aware it's not trying to be some kind of helpful alarm clock. Whatever is here, Will is sure it knows him, senses the darkness, the hunger, under his skin and wants to see it erupt into the world.

When he feels a hand on his shoulder, a breath against this ear, he's sure something is there. Will turns around, prepared to face a person but the only thing that greets him are a couple of the dogs, watching the space where a person should have been.

They know something is strange here too and he wishes they could tell him what the fuck is going on.

~

He goes from work, to home, to work again. The mudanities of teaching wear him down, and he feels his skin begin to crawl. There's an itch he can't reach, a need to do something more, something to make the build-up in his body finally break.

The house knows it too, can feel his restlessness.

The whispers get more intense.

His dreams start to shift. He wasn't always able to recall what they were but now, now he wakes up with shaking hands, a dry mouth and a disappointment that his hands aren't stained with blood, that his fingers aren't holding onto a piece of bone, or something sharp enough to slice through skin like butter.

He shivers, tries to pretend it's not there, that he isn't some horribly fucked up person for having these thoughts flash through his brain.

He tells himself that, if he didn't dream about it, he would probably be committing these sorts of things in his waking hours.

The reasoning almost comforts him

Almost.

~

He arrives back at the house (it never does manage to feel like home but it's a roof over his head and that's good enough for him) and finds the door open. There's a noise from inside that sounds distinctly human.

Will straightens up, body tense and already shifting into fight or flight mode. He's not sure what he's expecting to find inside but it's not a pair of men, one of them bound and gagged, while the other stands behind him, hands clasped and smiling.

The gagged man's eyes open wider and he starts pulling at his restraints. The other just shakes his head, shushing him before addressing Will.

"Hello," he greets. "Welcome home."

"Hi," Will says as he looks between the two of them. "Who the hell are you and why are you in my house?" He's never been one for small talk, especially in situations that are unexpected.

"You know who I am, Will."

And it's the way he says his name, the musicality to his voice, that tells Will exactly who this man is.

"You're the man who's been talking at night."

"I'm the man who's seen you as who you are. I've seen the dark places in your mind, Will. I've heard you at night. I know the things you think about, the things you want to do. I've watched you hold back everything you are and now I'm here to release you. Let the wolf out of his cage."

Will looks on, watching carefully for a long moment. "So," he starts. "What are you trying to get me to do here?"

"Embrace who you are. Take off the muzzle, show your teeth."

"And why would I do that for you?"

"Because," he says. "I can keep you safe, I can give you the home you've always wanted." He smiles, baring the slightest hint of his own teeth. "I am the home you've always wanted. Complete with air conditioning and someone to come back to."

Will is silent, considering all this. "I think I'll pass, thanks. Now, kindly get the fuck out."

The other sighs, shaking his head. "WIll, you're being ignorant and it's not endearing. You know I can't leave."

He runs a hand through his hair, looking between the two. "I've been the only person in this house."

The other man nods.

"And you've been here the whole time."

He's smiling, the expression on his face brightening.

"Are you the previous owner. The psychiatrist?"

He sighs, a flash of disappointment on his face before shaking his head. "Close. I'm everything he wanted to be. I'm the darkness that he didn't let rise up and take him. I'm every drop of blood he wished to put into this house and every craving he never let loose."

"And now you're here. Now you're my house."

The man laughs. "I much prefer being called Hannibal." 

Will nods slowly. "And this guy?"

"A gift."

"A gift?"

"For you. I thought we could enjoy a night together with him. He did try and break in and it seems only fitting that, since he broke one of our windows, we should reciprocate. It was quite rude, after all."

He's not sure what to say to that, so he lets the silence hang between them, save for the bound man's muffled pleas.

Hannibal holds out a blade, walking around the would-be burgler to offer it to Will.

"You're a fisherman," he says. "But I am a hunter. Let me help you."

Will's heart is racing in his chest, his hands trembling. Even so, he reaches out, and Hannibal's other hand claps his.

"This will be wonderful," he says. "Something we can treasure."

With a steady, careful pace, they close in. Will leads, as Hannibal walks behind, gently urging him on with a hand at the small of his back.

Will's hands can't stop shaking, so Hannibal reaches out and wraps his hand around the one holding the knife and with the other, positions the head.

Together, they slice through his neck, Hannibal's soft chuckle and the sound of blood the only things registering in Will's mind.

His heart pounds hard, fireworks going off in his brain as the adrenaline and blood spray hit him at the same time. He's about to say something, to try and maybe take it back somehow, when he feels Hannibal's hands on his shoulders, turning him around so he can press a deep, hungry kiss to his lips.

"Beautiful," he says as he pulls back, leaving Will baffled and bloody, but not upset. "Absolutely stunning."


End file.
